


BFG

by Zumberge



Category: Doom (Video Games), Original Work
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Digestion, Gen, Mash-up, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zumberge/pseuds/Zumberge
Summary: There are things that even demons fear, and things beyond the abyssal maw which hunger.
Kudos: 3





	BFG

Mars.

From its first recorded sighting in ancient Egypt, it took nearly four thousand years before mankind was able to reach out to it, landing a surface probe that survived long enough to observe it up close. It was small and primitive by modern standards, its systems outclassed by mass-produced digital devices, but for the time it was another great step into the unknown.

As mankind's knowledge of the planet grew, so did its ambitions. In the early part of the twenty-first century, world governments proposed manned missions to Mars, with the eventual goal of permanent human settlements. Setting aside their differences they pooled their resources in the name of a greater cause, and in 2063 Neriene was founded, the first fully self-sufficient colony. Soon after came the discussion on who, among the participating nations, could lay claim to the regions of this new land. Discussions turned to arguments, and in 2071 three major nations withdrew support rather than cede claims on future territory, the international cooperative dissolving and the future fate of Neriene left uncertain. If they could not have it all to themselves, they reasoned, no one could.

In the wake of this failure a new effort arose, headed not by nations, but corporations. Mining, robotics, engineering, astronautics - all those and more, coming together to finish what the public sector could not. The sharpest minds of NASA, Roscosmos, the CNSA and other organizations were hired with the promise of seeing their vision through to the end, and in 2075 a shuttle loaded with workers touched down on Neriene, the first in over three years.

By the end of the twenty-first century Mars had a growing economy rivaling some nations on Earth. Trade and research flowed freely, but the issue still remained of retribution towards the companies responsible. Reasoning they had more to gain through cooperation, they consolidated their power into a single entity, the movement spearheaded by the spacecraft manufacturers who began the program.

This was the birth of the United Aerospace Conglomerate - the UAC.

*****

Over two hundred and fifty years had passed since the UAC's founding. Mars was now more than a rival for Earth, unburdened as it was by its parent planet's backwards ethical concerns. It could, in a way, be seen as the new seat of power in the solar system, with Roland Dacote at its head. He had served as the UAC's CEO so for nearly ninety years, with no intention of stepping down early; the sturdy robotic body housing his spine and central nervous system was testament to that. After all, he reasoned, if you can do the job and do it well, why quit simply because your body tells you to?

The doors to Dacote's office slid open, the walls lined with hermetically-sealed glass cases containing all manner of ancient statues, stone carvings, and artifacts. They were trophies of exploration, taken from a civilization long gone. Mars itself was never inhabited prior to its colonization, but on it man found a path to a world that was.

Teleportation technology had humble beginnings: Two parallel rooms, linked by a hole in space barely larger than the mouth of a coffee cup, staffed by technicians passing a carbon rod back and forth between them. They grew larger, then more distant, objects crossing the planet in an instant. Then probes were sent through and the truth was revealed: It was not a hole they created, but a tunnel, and that tunnel went through another dimension entirely.

Twisted, dead trees dotted rocky expanses, stretching off into the distance towards looming mountains silhouetted by burning red flames that stretched up into a dead, black sky. Deep gashes in the earth lead to yawning caverns or cut so deep that lava bubbled up from the depths. Most ominous of all were the towering structures, marble buildings in hues of deep green and ashen white, their material alien to the desolate landscape and still largely unharmed by time or whatever force lead to their creators abandoning them. The air was smoky and the atmosphere oppressive, but not enough to deter archaeologists and linguistics experts from investigating everything they could.

Granted, those that spent a large amount of time there were prone to paranoia, delusional thinking, and mood swings, but in Dacote's experience academics tended towards instability, and really, the idea that mankind wasn't alone in the universe would weigh more heavily on some people than others.

As Dacote stood at the window, eyes cast across the martian landscape, the console at his desk let out a series of notes. "Speak," he said.

The screen switched over to a short-haired, middle-aged man. "Mr. Dacote," he began, "this is Dr. Halderman from the xenolinguistics division."

"You've made progress?"

"Yes sir. It's taken a while, but we've managed to get a working translation of the script used by previous civilization." He paused to glance at something out of view. "It bears some similarities to the South Semitic order of the Ugaritic alphabet, but there's several divergences in sentence structure and it makes heavy use of kennings. Comparing sources written at different times, it seems like there was an effort made to avoid the creation of neologisms."

"There's no linguistic drift."

"Not just a lack of drift, it seems as if deliberate effort was made to prevent it, which suggests some sort of extreme traditionalism or conformity."

"Hmm." After a moment of thought Dacote asked, "have you translated the text on The Box?"

Halderman hadn't worked on it personally, but he had heard that "The Box" was one of the more mysterious finds, proving resistant to scans of its interior and attempts to gain entry. It had caught Dacote's interest, enough so that one of the linguistics on staff had gone out of her way to translate its inscription first. "We have," he replied. After a few seconds of typing he looked over at a screen at his left and began reading. "'Within this sarcophagus lies the scourge of our race, a devouring fire that consumes body and soul. It raged without surcease across the Nether Plains in ravenous hatred, dooming our kind to oblivion. Let its body be sealed within and left in the darkest pits. Let its mind fall silent and fade to nothingness. Let its name be forgotten, lest it be spoken, rousing it from its rest.'"

Dacote looked over his shoulder at the screen, his outer shell showing no emotion. "That's what it says?"

"Yes sir. We haven't found anything to compare it to, but a lot of the researchers assume that the symbol on it is equivalent to a warning or biohazard sign."

"Well." He turned back to the window. "How fortunate that we weren't able to open it, then."

*****

The storage complex was bathed in red, the emergency lights the sole source of illumination. Bodies of researchers and assistants littered the halls and rooms, their flesh burnt or torn apart. Many of the recovered artifacts were missing, the hardened glass securing them either melted by impossible heat or reinforced steel forced open with tremendous strength. Only one door lay open with its chamber's contents untouched: A large, heavy box of black stone, nicked and pitted, ringed with chains and with a sharp-angled red sigil of ominous implication carved into the front.

Suddenly the sigil flared and faded to black, and the stone box did on its own what saws and torches could not. The metal links creaked and twisted before breaking apart, falling to the floor before the cover pitched forward, hitting the floor with a deafening thud that echoed through the complex.

Contained within was what appeared to be a young woman, dark-haired and brown-eyed, voluptuous to a degree that few could claim. Her figure was soft with a layer of fat, yet beneath it lay powerful muscles, and as she stepped out of her confinement, there was nothing in her firm expression or purposeful movement that suggested a softness of spirit to go with it. She was clad in boots and what could politely be called armor but more accurately a bikini and collection of reinforced plates with aspirations of such, which left much of her body exposed. The design and materials, however, were anachronistic compared to the ancient state of her confinement, and would be curiously at home in the environment she found herself in.

Her head slowly turned to and fro as she crossed the room, inspecting the damage to the walls and the wounds on the corpses. An urn lay shattered by the door, once sealed, now destroyed for its contents and discarded. She frowned briefly before approaching the door, and it let out a series of clicks before slowly sliding open with a long metallic whine.

No sooner did she enter than a foul taste filled her mouth, and a moment later the lights flickered and pulsed. The air crackled with static as two glowing circles appeared on the floor, lines and fell runes criss-crossing their interiors, and in a flash of light and a burst of sulfur and ozone two gaunt, grey-skinned humanoids appeared. They flexed their claws, bony scales shifting across their arms, and as their spider-like eyes focused on her they let out shrill cries before charging.

She calmly clenched her fists, and as the first demon lunged she juked to the side, turning and delivering a right hook to its jaw that sent it sprawling against the wall. The second swept a clawed hand overhead and she advanced to meet it, grabbing its wrist with one hand and twisting its arm to the side before snapping the other out, clutching its neck in a death grip. As the demon twisted in her grasp she drove her fist into its face, skull and bare teeth cracking from the onslaught of blows as its good limb wavered. Stunned, it could do nothing as she pulled it closer.

The young woman opened her mouth wide and, without hesitation, simply shoved the demon head-first into her maw. Her lips and jaws spread to engulf it as she pushed forward, taking in everything up to its shoulders. Clutching its sides she hoisted it up, tilting her head back as she forced it down, bouncing on her heels as it slid down her throat inches at a time. Her neck bulged dramatically as she gulped the beast down, shortly followed by her stomach as its upper half reached its final destination. By the time it was knee-deep in her it had recovered from its stupor, and its legs shook as her stuffed gut rolled and shuddered in its struggles. It was too little too late, as with a push the last of its body disappeared past her lips. She swallowed deeply and it was finally fully within her, irregular lumps moving across her belly a sign of its hopeless struggle.

She turned her attention back to the first demon in time to see it attempt to scuttle away across the floor. Diving onto her stomach she rolled forward, tucking as well as she could and, as she came up again, reaching out and grabbing it by both ankles. It hissed and struggled against her iron grasp, its claws raking deep lines in the floor as she pulled it closer to her mouth. It was a hunter, knowing nothing of the self but rage and fury, but in this moment it was at the mercy of the Unchained Predator, the Consuming Flame, the very thing which had pursued his kind in the ages before, and in this moment it finally knew fear.

It struggled, like all those which came before. The end came slowly, bit by bit, as it was drawn ever into the maw of oblivion. It could not turn to look at the hunter, nor work up the courage to turn, fighting in vain to escape the fate which had befallen countless others who were stronger, faster, more cunning. As the last of it was drawn in, it let out a howl before darkness claimed it, stifling its voice. Its blackened spirit was condemned to an eternity of dissolution, and its body consigned to its doom.

The young woman rocked back and forth for a moment before rolling onto her feet, rising with a grunt. Her stomach hung far beyond the waistband of her armor, so wide and round that her arms could reach little more than halfway around. The recent meal was still active and moving, though not for long, and in any instance it wasn't so large that she couldn't manage.

Looking to the side she spotted the body of a security guard slumped against the wall, a shotgun resting across his lap and his equipment and supplies scattered at his side. She hooked the toe of her boot under the weapon's barrel before pausing in thought and moving it under his satchel. With a quick kick she launched it upward, snatching it out of the air and rummaging through it before finding a small bundle of die-cut utensils held together with a metal peg. Pulling them apart, she took a knife and a fork in either hand before continuing on.

*****

By the time she reached the elevator her food had stopped struggling and softened considerably, giving her belly more of a sagging appearance. The contents of her stomach rolled and sloshed as she squeezed through the elevator doors and, with little room to maneuver, she awkwardly reached to the side to activate the console once she was in. As the elevator rose above the martian surface the small monitor above the console blinked to to life, displaying the overlapping circle and triangle logo of the UAC before switching to a faceless robotic humanoid.

"This is Roland Dacote," he said, "president of the United Aerospace Conglomerate. It would appear that we have a common enemy, and common interests. An alliance is in order, would you not agr-"

With a sweep of her arm she drove her fork into the monitor, and the screen went black.

**Author's Note:**

> (Notes date from 8/2019)
> 
> So a fella by the handle of Kanilan (DA, Eka's, probably elsewhere) made a character inspired by Doom who was a predator that, to wit, ate demons. I saw her, was immediately inspired and wrote out the Doom Eater Testament that appeared on her sarcophagus after plotting out the last third in my head, then some time later I came up with the backstory and the first two thirds at work and was like, "well shit, I really hope this guy is cool with me writing this because it's gonna be a fuckin' waste otherwise." Turns out he was. Crisis averted.
> 
> If you saw something and were about to ask, "is that from-" the answer is yes. This is just a mashup and remix of every Doom game's story (and "story"), as has been the modus operandi of Doom level creators and modders for the past twenty-five years or so. Unpacking it, it's like... Doom 4's UAC running Doom 1's teleporter experiments that lead to Doom 64's version of Hell with some Doom 3 overtones, Doom 2's white and green marble and Doom 3's imps.
> 
> You can probably guess that I have Strong Feelings about Doom in general. I wrote this over the course of two days and one morning, though the progress for the second day was kind of kneecapped by a wicked headache, and despite that it's probably the fastest I've ever written anything that wasn't going to be graded, which is especially impressive considering the length. It was actually demon *girls* that he was thinking of, though. Oh well.


End file.
